FNF 21: Perfect Strangers
by godfatherambs
Summary: Prompt: There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go. -Author Unknown
1. Chapter 1

**There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go. -Author Unknown**

"Your charts, Nurse Webber," Epiphany huffed, sliding a stack of at least ten charts in the brunette's direction.

She nodded timidly, letting out a shaky breath as she smoothed her hands over the front of her newly purchased scrubs. They were a soft pink, her least favorite color, but it was all the store had, and seeing as she'd gotten rid of every other pair she'd ever owned, she had no choice.

"Are you sure about this?" the head nurse asked softly, her brown eyes flashing the briefest glimpse of concern.

"I don't want to be at home anymore," she replied, working her plump lip back and forth between her teeth as she sifted through the charts, organizing them by room number so she could begin her first day of rounds back at General Hospital.

"It's only been a month," Epiphany pressed, placing a gentle hand on the nurse's shoulder. "We're here for you, Elizabeth."

"I know," she whispered, peeking at the head nurse from beneath her lashes. "Honestly, I don't want to be treated any differently. I need this distraction." She let out a tiny gasp when her eyes landed on the last chart, her heart tightening in her chest, a tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it.

"That was a mistake," her boss hissed, clearly faulting herself for the slip up, but Elizabeth reached out, placing her hand over Epiphany's wrist.

"I don't want special treatment," she said firmly, running her fingertips over Dr. Patrick Drake's familiar scrawl.

"This isn't special treatment," Epiphany replied, grabbing the chart and trying to pull it away, but the petite nurse was prepared to fight her for it.

"I need this," Elizabeth pleaded, lifting her soft blue eyes to the head nurse. "Please, it'll give me an excuse to see him."

Her jaw tightened as she shook her head, one hand sliding over her hip. "For the life of me, I cannot understand why you want to see that man after everything."

Elizabeth agreed more than anyone knew, but she'd already told herself that very morning that she would visit him during her shift. She would at least look at the face, maybe even into the eyes, of the man whose entire world had been as changed as her own. "Is he…how is he?"

"Alive," Epiphany muttered sadly, forcing a smile at the nurse.

"Awake?" she asked curiously, having read the story in the newspaper time and time again. So much that she had memorized the entire byline; every word, every vivid detail, especially the part where the man had forgotten his entire identity after spending three weeks in a coma.

She would have given anything to forget what had happened; to lose the nightmares that came in the dark and the screams that haunted her whenever the world became silent. She envied this stranger for the life that he'd been fortunate enough to forget, and yet she pitied him more than he probably would have liked her to. It wasn't fair; to lose your identity and sense of yourself as part of some mindless tragedy.

Nothing about what had happened had been fair.

"Ms. Webber?"

"Yes?" she asked, pulling herself from her thoughts to see Epiphany glaring at her.

"Do you plan on working? If one patient is that much of a distraction-"

"You gave him to me," she interrupted firmly, gathering the charts in her arm. "He's my patient." Before her boss could argue or find some way to take him away from her, she disappeared off the hub, heading towards the long hallway that led to his room.

He was at the bottom of her stack, probably requiring the least amount of attention, but she couldn't stop herself from rushing towards him immediately. It was desperate and disgusting; to want to look at the man who had lost as much as she had, but she needed to feel less alone. She needed that reminder that someone else was suffering as much as she was, and she felt guilty that she was hanging onto his own tragedy to get through her own.

What kind of woman was she?

Or rather, who had she become?

Exactly one month ago, she'd been a single mother, working overtime to raise her four-year-old son and afford him all the pleasantries he required. She made a promise the very moment she learned she was pregnant and his father walked away – her child would never want for anything, and nothing would be too much to ask for. Her mother scolded her for such thinking from day one, but it wasn't like her parents were offering to help her with their grandchild.

They'd left the duty entirely on her shoulders, just as his father had, and she never once put any of them down for their choice. If they didn't want to be in her child's life, she wouldn't force them, but she would work hard to make up for their absence. Granted, he spent more hours in daycare than the rest of the kids, but he was happy to have his friends and to go home with his mother every night, and that was more than enough for her.

Now, she was childless and alone, too distraught to work the overtime to ignore the gaping hole in her life. She'd spent the last thirty days curled up in bed, a tattered stuff monkey at her side and a Chuggin' Charlie pillow beneath her head as if that would bring him back somehow. She'd spent the last thirty days wondering if there was something she'd forgot to tell her son or if he knew that he was the center of her entire world. And she'd spent the last thirty days promising herself she wouldn't become angry and bitter, that this wouldn't get the best of her and force her to lose everything she'd worked so hard to become.

Yet, here she was; standing outside of room 2220 in General Hospital, relieved that someone in this city understood the ache that she felt, that his life had been as turned upside down by this as her own. It was a strange feeling to need someone she'd never met and had come to know only through newspapers clippings and news coverage. She was surprised that Epiphany had let her get this far with her chart, but perhaps her boss believed it to be inevitable.

At one point, Elizabeth would see Jason Morgan, and the entire night that changed both their lives would resonate, only she was going to ensure that it happened on her own her terms. Nothing would ever catch her like that awful night had – _nothing._

"Any pain?" the nurse asked quietly, her eyes sweeping over the machines without really noting so much as a number or a drop. She was clearly distracted just from being in the room with him, which he was used to at this point.

"No," he replied thickly, licking his lips as he shifted uncomfortably in his bed.

It seemed like everyone was amazed with the man he was – or rather _wasn't_. They all wanted to get into the tiny hospital room and gape at his lack of memory, pointing out all he should remember, but couldn't.

Her situation was different, and he knew that, but it didn't make it any less awkward. When the door to his room opened and she'd entered, he hadn't been able to breathe, curious as to why she, of all the possible nurses on staff, was standing in his room.

He expected a lashing, a spat of anger followed by several bursts of bitterness, but instead, she'd set straight to work. She'd offered to help him to the bathroom, which he declined, and she'd moved him into the oversized armchair in the corner of the room so she could change his sheets. They'd discussed his therapy that morning, and he'd said everything was hard because of the way people looked at him. She admitted that she knew what that felt like, and he found himself embarrassed for complaining – even for a split second - to her.

"Discomfort?" she asked, giving him a heavy smile as she sat his chart on his bedside table and looked him in the eye.

"Nothing physical," he answered, clearing his throat as he took in her nervous stance and tender eyes.

His ache was indescribable – maybe desperation for the man he was before, the man he couldn't remember, and she clearly understood it immediately. If anyone felt the loss, the confusion, and the anger that he did, it was her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her eyes to the floor as she grabbed his chart from the table, hurrying to make a few notes.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he muttered, scratching his forehead and sliding a finger beneath the bandage.

She flinched unintentionally at his words, and he felt the desire to reach out and pull her into his arms. He wanted to comfort her for her loss, to apologize for what had happened that night, and to make it better, but he couldn't change what had happened anymore than she could.

"You really shouldn't do that," she said, letting out a heavy sigh as if to apologize.

"It itches."

"Yeah."

She clasped the chart to her chest, nibbling her lip intently. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Get me out of here," he replied, letting out a nervous laugh.

Her lips twitched at the corners of her mouth, but she didn't give in to the urge to smile, though he could imagine what it would have looked like on her face. "You'll have to talk to Dr. Drake about that."

"Yeah."

She rocked back and forth on her heels, continuing to chew her lip as if there was something she wanted to say, but couldn't. It was similar to how he felt. Every time he saw her face on the news or in the paper, he wanted to help her – to heal her, but knew it was impossible, and that was the most frustrating part tof all of this.

He could handle the loss of who he used to be. There was still time for him to become someone else, to create a life of his own, butand hers had stopped completely. He knew nothing about parenthood, but from what he'd read and the whispers he'd heard among the staff, her entire life centered on her son. Jason had no idea what his life was supposed to center on, but he could find something whereas she'd lost hers completely.

"Well, if you need anything," she started, shoving her wild head of chocolate curls from her face as she backed towards the door, "don't hesitate to page me."

"Okay." He pushed himself up in bed, ignoring the dizziness that came whenever he moved too fast. "If there's anything I can do…"

She paused when she gripped the doorknob, her shoulders tensing as she opened the door, and he almost wanted to ask her to stay, but wasn't sure what she would think about that.

After all, how was he supposed to talk to her? What did he say to this woman? Did he admit that he'd been reading about her in newspapers, heard about the funeral on television? And how in the hell was he supposed to apologize for her loss?

"Just…get well," she said turning around in the doorway, one hand bracing the doorframe as if to hold her up. "You have a chance to live and make something of yourself."

"So do you," he reminded her, his heart clenching in his chest when her eyes welled up with tears.

"It's different for me," she replied, shaking her head.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he apologized, dropping his gaze to his blanket.

"I know," she murmured, taking a deep breath. "You don't remember that night, but I think about it all time." She wiped away a tear as it slid down her cheek. "I'd give anything not to remember."

"I'm so sorry for…" He couldn't finish his sentence, no apology sounding right.

"You didn't do it," she said, easing his worries just a bit.

It'd be a lie to say he hadn't thought about this moment and what it would be like to come face to face with this woman. He'd spent the last seven days coming to terms with his reality upon waking up from his coma, and all he could think about was her and the child that she'd lost, and how his alcoholic brother had taken it away from both of them.

"If you need anything…"

"I don't," she said, her voice breaking as she stepped out of the doorway and into the hall. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this, but I needed to see…"

"I understand," he empathized, having been trying to talk himself out of seeking her out upon his release.

"I think…" She tucked her hair behind her ear, swallowing hard as she looked him in the eye. "I think you should have another nurse."

Thankfully this visit, this surprised encounter between the patient and nurse, had stifled that need. Perhaps now they could go back to their lives, to what little they had left, and ignore what had happened, simply grieving their losses as they somehow managed to get by.

The only thing was that Jason didn't know how he was supposed to forget the face of the woman who had haunted him since the accident. He'd had dreams during his coma, visions of the accident, heard the sounds of a woman crying, and could even recall the precise way their cars had crunched together, but he didn't tell any of the doctors this. Just like he wouldn't tell them that he was the one who called 911 and that Elizabeth had been the one to pull him from his brother's car seconds before it exploded.

He'd lost a brother, she a son, and he was too terrified at what everyone would do with such information, whetherif they would pressure him to remember other things that had happened before, or worse, how they would use it in relation to her. Elizabeth was carrying enough grief and stress on her shoulders and the last thing she needed was for Jason to admit that he knew she saved his life. She wouldn't want to be a hero when she felt like a failure for not being able to save her own son, and he wasn't going to tell her any differently.

At least not until she was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Attention Readers:**

I just wanted to let you all know that I will **no** longer be updating my fics on this site and that within the next couple weeks or so, I'll have the account removed in its entirety.

I have been having so many issues with uploading my documents from Word and the documents still containing tons of mistakes that aren't in the copy I have saved on my computer. I've tried countless ways of avoiding this, but it's still happening, and lately I've been getting lots of PMs/Emails/Comments about the lack of editing. It's as frustrating for me as it is for you to read, and I'm tired of not being able to fix it, especially when I spend so much time editing them.

I have a personal website with all my fanfics (as well as site exclusives) that you can find here linked on my author page. For some reason I couldn't link it here - just another reason to be pissed off with this site. You do have to register an account to read, but it only takes a few minutes. I send out email alerts every time a story is updated just like you receive on here or you can bookmark a thread to receive alerts when it's updated.

If you wish to continue reading the stories, you'll have to sign up for my site. I know it's inconvenient, but has proven to be more inconvenient than anything else for me, and I'm throwing in the towel.

Hopefully you're not too pissed off at me for doing this and I'll see you on the site.

Ambs


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